


Au Revoir Encore

by lagoonfishkc



Category: Spy (2015)
Genre: Actor x OC, F/M, SPY!Jason Statham
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-13
Updated: 2018-01-13
Packaged: 2019-03-04 04:57:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13356981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lagoonfishkc/pseuds/lagoonfishkc
Summary: An American senior college transfer student wasting away her tuition in France. An MI6 undercover agent working a secret case. What happens when they cross paths? Lots of destruction and body bags. Probably a couple one night stands and a few wine bottles, too.





	Au Revoir Encore

**Author's Note:**

> RATED T+. PLEASE BE AT LEAST 15 OR OLDER TO READ THIS, DON'T REPORT. ALCOHOL/DRUG/SUBSTANCE USE, VIOLENCE/GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF VIOLENCE ARE MENTIONED (duh, spy work). YOU'VE BEEN WARNED.  
> Please note, this is a work in progress. I'm still currently undergoing writers block, so writing as much as I have was a pain in the ass. Hopefully, its not as bad as I think it is. Toodles.

The bar pulsed with low-light and candles everywhere. I could barely see what was in my glass, but I could tell it was alcohol by the way it tasted. Whiskey, to be specific. Ah, the taste of Tennessee. The music wasn’t really my taste, but it was low and base-y; my head buzzed along with the beat. The night I met Jason was hard to remember. I blame the booze.

He walked into the lowlife gangster bar as if he owned the place. His suit was richer and smelled more expensive than the other mafia bosses in here, but it was his facial expression that caught my eye. His eyes scanned the room as if he were looking for prey. Then they fell on my face.

I never thought my head would whip back around faster, my hair slapping against my rosy cheeks with a sting. The alcohol in my glass sloshed around as my hand twitched to my purse protectively, but he handed it to me with a low grin.

“Gin on the rocks, if you’d please.” He spoke to the female bartender, an itch of irritation pricking at my consciousness. A player, huh? Figures. Its always the Brits. Then he turned his attention to me as his drink was being made.

“And what,” he mused, “is such a beautiful woman doing in a filthy place like this?”

I shrugged my shoulders and sipped the rest of my drink. The taste of fire burned my throat as I struggled to hold back my gag reflex. Exhaling the fume, I flicked some hair out of my face and gazed into his deep porcelain blue eyes.

“Throwing away my college tuition because the administrators decided they were too good for me.” I remarked, my glass setting down on the counter with a dull ‘tmp,’ now empty. “Plus, I’m poor.”

The man chuckled, giving the bartender a warm thank you once he received his glass. She went all the way with the finishing free flourish of a drink umbrella and a maraschino. How flirtatious. I flashed her a glare once she had her back turned to me.

“What were you studying for? Especially in France of all places? Art? Literature? Sciences?” He asked, swirling the drink around and deftly plucking the cherry from his glass, slipping it between his lips as if it were a delicate chocolate truffle. I restrained myself from shuddering out of sheer attraction to his suave personality and traced my fingers around the glass rim.

“I wanted to be a spy.” He choked on his drink.

***  
The rest of that night was a blur to my intoxicated, burned brain, and all I could remember was his husky accent. The next morning I woke up in his apartment, wearing nothing but a button-up shirt that smelled faintly of his cologne. My eyes refused to believe what they saw, because I kept blinking in the sunlight of high noon at the empty space beside me. The sheets were cold; he’d been gone a while. I sat up, my head pounding. Deciding to try and walk around a bit, I slipped my feet out of the blankets and stepped onto the soft, carpeted floor. 

His apartment was lush, I can’t lie about that. Definitely a six or seven figure allowance. Everything was either clad in an off-white or a dark gray. The curtains were drawn on most of the windows except the one looking out on the Parisian skyline, which was wide open and pouring sunlight on my skin, which seemed to glow in its warm bath. I looked around, surprised at the number of wine bottles we had emptied last night between the two of us. A vague memory of the night before resurfaced, sporting his smirk as he took the entire bottle and gulped it down within two minutes. We were both drunk as hell.

My brain became panicky as I started thinking of multiple alternative fates I’d handed over to him last night by getting in the backseat of an uber with him. Did he use a condom? My eyes flitted over to the nightstand, where a silvery sheen of a ripped up square piece of plastic flashed in the sun. I exhaled in relief. Thank god.

I searched around for my purse, which, along with my clothes, were set and folded neatly on the sofa. It looked untouched from the night before, so that was a major relief. I stuck my hand in the familiar bag and searched around for my phone, but felt instead of the slick, flat and uncracked screen was a sticky note.

“Had to leave for work, I’ll be back before dark. You’re welcome to make yourself at home.”

I raised an eyebrow, tearing off the sticky note. It peeled off, leaving almost no residue on my phone screen, which I clicked open to see three text notifications from an unknown number. Wow. Went all the way, this guy has, to put my number in his phone.

“Hey you, on my way back. Sit still and look pretty, yeah?” - 12:45 PM  
“On the highway. You still sleeping?” - 1:42 PM  
“Pulling into the parking lot. See you soon.” - 2:05 PM

My phone dinged as a new text from him popped in.

“Coming in the door, I can see that you read my other texts. ;)”

And on that note, the door clacked open at 2:22 sharp. How long was I asleep? His blue eyes were brighter than ever, crinkling up in a smile as he saw me in his shirt, on the couch, looking at my phone. I have never been more embarrassed to be caught looking at my phone, so I threw it back in my purse and stood up, my face changing colors when I saw his pleased look. He carried his suit jacket over his shoulder, a briefcase in his other hand. A white button-up covered his abdomen, but I knew firsthand what muscle he had underneath the fabric. 

“Sleep well?” He asked, setting his briefcase down and hanging up the jacket. I shrugged, to starstruck to say anything. When I finally grew the courage to say something, it came out as a squeak instead of a harmonious tune to his accent.

“Like a rock.” He chuckled, plopping down on the sofa with a pof. He smiled up at me, sizing me up. I think he liked the shirt on me, but I felt unclean in a way. I haven’t showered since yesterday morning. Ew.

“Me too. Unfortunately I forgot I had work today, but I thought you looked so fascinating while you slept that I just couldn’t bring myself to wake you up when I left.” He mused, undoing his tie and two of the buttons of his shirt. I awkwardly shifted the weight onto my other foot.

“So.. I know how one night stands work. Is this my cue to leave?” I asked, my voice almost inaudible. He swung his head around, startled.

“I would never ask you to leave! You can leave when you want to, sugarplum. I’m not God.” He sat forward, gesturing to the seat next to him. Cautiously, I leaned into the couch, pushing my purse and my clothes to the far end. My eyes caught the lacy piece of fabric that was my underwear, and I blushed even harder. He chuckled in response.

“You know what’s really fucked up?”

“What’s that?” I answered.

“That I’m positive you told me your name last night, but I can’t remember what it was.” His eyebrows furrowed down into a disappointed/angry/confused/apologetic expression, which I thought was cute for such a manly man as he.

“Yeah well, we’re in the same boat.” I laughed nervously, twisting the fabric of my shirt around my hands in an awkward habit. He placed a hand on my arm gently, I thought I was going to melt. His hands were so warm, but calloused.

“Tell me again, so I’ll remember this time.” He coaxed, leaning down a bit to stare into my reddened face. I flitted my acid green eyes to meet his porcelain blue ones, and then flicked them down again.

“Its Raina. Raina Sabine.”


End file.
